


the girl's got rhythm

by tremontaine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Double Penetration, F/M, Gangbang, OT3, Overstimulation, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tremontaine/pseuds/tremontaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Natasha a long time to get comfortable with this particular fantasy, let alone the idea that it might actually happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the girl's got rhythm

She didn’t really relax until after the first fuck, but when she did it happened all at once: the sudden loosening of tension, the total absence of thought she so craved, pitched into pure physical sensation and blissfully lost there. But the moment they first draped her across the table she didn’t feel particularly sexy. She felt awkward and self-conscious and even, perhaps, a little afraid; that seemed stupid. They had been passing her around the room for what felt like hours already, kissing and groping and fondling her, sweet anticipation drawn out further with every new arrival. She had no idea how many laps she had been pulled into, had lost track of how many cocks she’d stroked to hardness. She could only keep track of two men, and that was by the too-hot temperature of their skin, the sweet familiarity with which they touched her.

When, finally, she’d been lifted up onto the table, she had been shivering, her skin sensitised, her nipples hard, sore already with being pinched and tugged and licked and suckled; the blood was pounding in her cheeks and she flung her hands out helplessly, blindly, searching for the edge of the table, skin, contact.

“Maybe tie you down.” Heavy hot hands on her wrists, pulling her arms above her head; laughter went round the room, very close now, heavy breathing, the sound of skin on skin as they stroked themselves. If only she could see. She couldn’t bear to take the blindfold off.

“Nah, man. Let her jerk someone off –“

“Not gonna have the concentration for that.” Laughter again, breathy, subdued, anticipatory. It was so loud, all around her, it swallowed her up, and here she was sprawled all exposed and inviting, like she thought she _deserved_ –

“Fucking perfect tits.”

“Want to see that mouth wrapped round my cock, made for it.”

“Turn her over after, have that sweet little ass.”

“What you waiting for, dude, a written invitation? Lady wants a cock inside her, I say oblige.”

Jesus Christ. Her thighs tensed; her back arched a little when he touched her knees, pushing them apart; she didn’t mean to rub against the table, to lift her hips invitingly, to show them all just how much she did actually want –

“Wants a cock inside her, Jesus. You see how wet she is?” Fingers on her cunt, a caress from her anus up to her clit; then they parted her labia, curled inside her easily; she tightened around them, unable to stop herself, more please god, and he laughed as he withdrew his hand; then he pushed his cock inside her, thick and heavy and hot, filled her up just perfect, just the way she wanted, pulled out slow and thrust home so hard she cried out, startling herself: she never cried out, usually. (She never went out to sex clubs and blindfolded herself and asked a roomful of strangers to treat her like the party favour fucktoy, usually.)

It was a signal to the rest of the room, that noise; suddenly there were hands on her all over, a hot mouth on her left breast, fingers tugging on her right nipple, her wrists were released so they could each of her hands around somebody’s cock, wet with pre-come. That relentless rhythm never let up, hard and fast and thorough, forcing her open and filling her up, driving her out of her head and into her body: the sounds the men were making, the wet noise of the cock in her cunt, the cool hard table under her shoulders and hips, the fingers that turned her head to the side and forced her mouth open for someone’s cock, hot and heavy on her tongue; she nearly gagged, it tasted wrong, wrong, wrong, and for a second panic swamped her before body-warm metal fingers pinched reassuring bruises into her hip, _I’m here, we’re here, no matter who else has you tonight you belong to us_.

She came shaking, gagging on the cock in her mouth, her left leg kicking out the way it usually did when she came, so that someone grabbed her ankle and held it still, her head filled up with the laughter all around her, the men’s voices.

“Fuck yeah she wants it.”

“Fucking made for it.”

“Strap her down and keep her here, yeah, the complimentary fucktoy.”

A few titters, till someone else drawled lazily, “You’re here to make her happy, kid, not the other way around.” She would have grinned, but she was too busy getting her face fucked, her body all hot and pliant and languid with orgasm, and when he came inside her she felt the hot pulse in her cunt and moaned for it, which set off the guy in her mouth; she swallowed and spit and groaned when he drew back _, fucking hot Jesus_ , rolling her head on the table, and yeah, yeah, this was beautiful, this was – everything was touch, touch and hearing and taste and the smell of sex and sweat, this primal, carnal mess she had made of herself was everything she wanted, and when he pulled out of her cunt and stepped away she lifted her hips, beckoning, and got what she wanted almost at once, it was too soon, she was still so sensitive, it was amazing.

There must be a goddamn line. This guy started slow; she flung her hands above her head again to clutch at the upper edge of the table, arching her torso off the surface, moaning, and hands rubbed at her skin, fingers pushed into her mouth to gag her, someone groped her tits.

“Yeah you love that, love taking it from some random stranger you’ll never even see.”

“What’s she feel like man, come on.”

“Fucking tight.” His voice was tight with effort; he picked up the pace, fucking her harder, sending her sliding across the table before he dragged her back onto his cock, her wet skin slipping easily across the surface, everyone was breathing hard, she could hear them jerking themselves to the sight of her, like a promise of what was next.

“Not for long,” someone else said; laughter again, hands on her, someone else taking her mouth, smaller cock this time, wiping the stray drops of come from her lips as though he didn’t want her marked with someone else. That was cute, she thought, condescending. He might not know it when he saw it but she was very thoroughly possessed, and not by him. By now Second Guy had a punishing pace she almost couldn’t breathe through, shocking little gasps out of her that vibrated in her throat, fucking her viciously onto the other guy’s cock, and she was gloriously, beautifully, perfectly unaware of anything and everything except how thoroughly she was being taken apart.

Then someone put their fingers on her clit. Conscious thought deserted her.

Third, fourth, fifth; she was a mess, filthy with sweat and come and her own slick, a writhing moaning mess, being driven casually into orgasm after orgasm; people had come on her chest and left, she’d not bothered counting the blowjobs, her tits were sore with being fondled, the blindfold damp with her tears. Sixth, seventh, eighth; now she was moaning, near continuous, breathless and panting and begging, though for what she didn’t know. They had dragged her down from the table, bent her across it to fuck her from behind; then up against the wall, smooth and cool against her overheated skin. Someone sprawled out on one of the couches, put her in his lap and bounced her on his cock for goddamn hours, showing her off, the best possible position for the whole room to see her, see what a mess she was, see how much she wanted it. She was sore and she was shaking madly; sprawled across his body like this her feet barely touched the floor, she felt so – so pliable, so malleable, as if her bones were rubber, they found it so easy to move her any which way they wanted. His thighs must be covered in her slick, in other men’s come, and finally he tipped her onto all fours on the floor and jerked himself off over her ass, groaning.

She sank her head onto her arms and waited, flushed with desperation, exertion. A few seconds’ grace; everything hurt, everything floated, the world was misty and indistinct and sweet and soft as spun sugar. Here she knelt on display for a roomful of strangers with her ass in the air for them to do whatever they wanted with and she was so delighted with it that she was very nearly giggling in sheer unadulterated glee.

They rubbed lube and come and her own slick into her ass, stretching her wide as she sucked someone’s cock, but wouldn’t fuck her in it, oh no, someone’s lap again, facing him this time, his chest hair rubbing at her nipples, so sensitised it was deliciously painful, her face pressed against his shoulder to muffle her noises as he lifted her hips up and dropped her onto his cock over and over, someone else had their fingers in her ass, big strong hot fingers, splitting her open even before he pushed his cock inside her.

She _wailed_. It probably wasn’t sexy. If they made her come again she might pass out, she didn’t think she could possibly ever –

They made her come again. Neither of them lasted long after that.

+++

Darkness, voices, hot water on her skin. They drew the blindfold off, and she flinched back till she felt the hard metal arm around her, remembered the holomasks. They were kneeling in the showers, the lights dimmed; her throat was sore, her voice cracking.

“Water?”

“Here. Easy.” Swallowing was a chore. Washing was a chore; they did it for her. Heated towels, and nondescript clothes, bought cheap for the occasion, destined to be discarded. She couldn’t damn well walk; he carried her to the cab, they joked with the cabbie about celebrating her birthday. She summoned up enough presence of mind to say something suitably drunken and harmless, draped comfortably across their laps.

They took the back way into the house, through the back yard. Left the lights off, upstairs to the bedroom, lit the candles in the corner; rare was the night when all three of them liked to sleep in the absolute dark. Then, gently, the holomasks came off, James’ dear face, Steve’s, the familiar feel of their bodies matching up with the sight at last. Steve’s gentle fingers tugged hers off as James helped her undress, slipping her shoes off, unbuttoning her shirt.

“There,” he said, and ran his hand through her damp hair.

Natasha sighed, drawn out and shivering. “You liked it.” She was triumphant.

Steve went red at once and glanced away, biting his lip, but he didn’t deny it. “Well.”

She giggled. “It was amazing.”

“Yeah?” James kissed the bruises on her hips.

“God, yeah.” She let herself fall back on the bed, sighing in delight. “I forgot my own name.” She had tried personas on at first, characters, women who would want this, but by the time she was naked she’d been unable to hold on to any of them.

“That was the point.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Misuse of government property,” Steve said – the holomask buttons clattered onto the dresser.

“I love you,” Natasha said.

“You hungry?”

“Hmm.” She was half asleep.

“I’ll go find something.”

“No,” Natasha said, rousing herself. “Later. Cuddle now.” She patted the mattress imperiously.

James laughed. “Yes ma’am.”

“Come here then.” Steve picked her up again so they could get the duvet down; he laid her gently on the sheet and she cracked her eyes open to watch him strip.

“Who was first?”

“Me,” said James.

“And on the couch?”

Steve’s blush was back. Natasha grinned. “I knew it.”

“Smug is a very unattractive look on you.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Hush up and sleep,” James told her, and she snuggled against him and sighed in delight when Steve joined them, perfectly exhausted and perfectly content.

 

 


End file.
